Tails of the Wyverns
by ice-kestrel9
Summary: You know of their ryders- the courageous, the notorious, the legendary. Now, hear their stories from the point-of-view... of their wyverns. A collection of one-shot-ish stories for your favorite wyvernryders and their mounts. The Moonstone is in the house
1. An Eye for an Eye

An Eye for an Eye

**An Eye for an Eye**

-Haar and Rynkar

--

_**Ice Kestrel: **_Okay, so this is a collection of one-shot-ish stories, from the POV of the wyverns. Some of the wyverns were never named, so I had to name them. Flame me if you truly feel the names are terrible. I don't care. At least I addressed them with names, not as possessive nouns.

Any points I make that sound similar to the Inheritance trilogy by Christopher Paolini, I apologize. No, I did not copy his stuff. I just happen to believe the same things as him. And personally, I kind of like his works. I just hate the kid named Eragon (no offense or anything…)

--

Lazy. Carefree. Laid-back. Cloud-watcher.

You. Haar. My ryder. My comrade-in-arms. My friend.

It is true, how the ryder is bestowed an empathy link to his mount on the day. The day in which he is presented with his partner for life. How one must connect, bond with his partner, despite differences. For they are not two, but one.

And you were assigned to me.

How I loathed you in the beginning. Our personalities could not be more different if we tried. Had it not been for me, you would have failed the academy in your first year. Had it not been for you, we would have been at the top of the class.

It was our indifference that entrapped us in that predicament. You wandered away from the platoon in search for a good place to nap. I insisted on following the Commander. And as wyvern fought against ryder, our guard was lowered, our positions unveiled to the enemy. The racket caught the attention of the enemy patrol, and steel clashed against steel.

You loathed violence. And you still do.

Why you ever joined the army, I could not fathom.

Commander Shiharam ordered us into formation. You readied your axe, tense. Your emotions swirled with such intensity, it was blinding; such readiness to prove yourself- to Shiharam, who was more of a father than your own.

The way you looked up to the Commander has he gave his orders puzzled me. I had not ever thought of you to have such feelings.

And yet, it was Shiharam who made you feel important. His ideals, his cause, influencing you, making you open your eyes to the bigger truth in life. To fight, not for yourself, but for your friends, your people. Your country. Your admiration of the Commander, your sudden determination to not slack off your days, but to be the soldier he saw in you.

You never saw a reason to fight. You preferred to nap your days away, peaceful like an old cow. But as all were readying for battle, I felt something. The loneliness within you, a deep gouging hole in your person, knowing that without your rank in the army, you are nothing. You have no place in the world.

Something that made no sense to me. Despite our empathy link, we could not dive into each others' pasts; we were to share, should we feel the need. And you were most stubborn to keep your memories to yourself.

The battle raged, and you fought, not for yourself, but for your country. And I saw you, fighting alongside Shiharam, and I knew. Deep down inside, you are not the person I thought you were. There was something I had never paid attention to before. A kid, in need of guidance. A person, alone. Longing. For a friend. And from that moment on, I was determined to be… your friend.

That spear nearly stole your life, had it not been at that moment I threw you off, into the air, away from its point. As it embedded itself into my flank, I felt no pain. Only the fierce determination to keep you safe from harm, to land safely back onto my back your place, as a ryder.

And you sat dazed. Unbelieving. That thought.

_I thought you hated me._

I did hate you, I admitted. But for an ignorant kid, you're not too bad.

_And for an old grouch like you,_ you shot back, _you're not too shabby either._

That grin only lasted for a mere second before it was replaced with a worried frown. As I turned, an arrow sailed across the open sky. Shiharam's shout rang across loud and clear. But too late. The arrow that was shot from a ballistae, aimed directly at my heart. You yelped in surprise, and leapt in front of me.

The impact echoed on and on, time slowed down, as you fell into my forearms, this time not dazed, but in pure agony.

The arrow. The arrow that had been meant for me. You took that hit for me.

And it cost you your eye.

--

The medics would not allow it, but were reluctant to deal with an ill-tempered wyvern, so they left me there beside you.

The others were convinced you would never become a full-fledged soldier due to a loss of half you vision.

Shiharam silenced them with a glare, as he glanced worriedly in your direction.

As for you, the moment you regained consciousness, your first thought was, _Are you hurt?_

Of course I was not hurt. You took that hit for me. And it cost you dearly. A price I could never pay back, not in a hundred lifetimes.

_Rynkar…_

I blinked in surprise. This is the first time you have ever addressed me by name…

_You saved my life, and I saved yours. That's what friends are for…_

I nodded. Yes, Haar. That's what friends are for.

--

_You overgrown lizard._

You half-blind fool.

And we both grin like mad.

--

_**Ice Kestrel:**_ I have always liked these wyvernriders and their mounts. Of the many fanfics I have read, not many have addressed the wyverns as separate beings, just more like horses- there, but not there. I don't think so. I think these wyverns have their share of stories to tell. Review or flame. Give me reasons as to why. I hope you enjoyed it.


	2. Rotten to the Core

_**Ice Kestrel: **_Well, this is odd. I couldn't figure out what to write, and ended up working on other stuff for the longest time. Heh, heh… ahm, sorry about that.

**Disclaimer-** I do not own Fire Emblem. Slivegio's name was borrowed from SpeedDemon315, who I must thank. Thanks!

--

Humans. Such frail things, you people are. It's almost pitiful, in a sense, how easily one event, one simple act, could change a person, and cause his whole life to spiral downwards, like a fallen leaf in the plains.

Valter…

Yes, I remember… it was that hunger- your desire to be… the best. This insatiable hunger, people warned, could lead to the birth of a monster.

_Old tales of the fishwives_, you scoffed. _Nothing more_.

Nevertheless, your comrades kept their distance, your commanders a watchful eye on you. You were an outcast, in a way, separate from the rest of the group. Your skills on the battlefield your comrade, the cries of your dying enemies your companion.

Whispers among the squadrons. An inhuman lust for spilt blood. Tales of your notorious savagery and unmerciful acts. Mountains of bodies left behind, villages trembling in your wake.

Cruel.

Sadistic.

A monster.

And I can only laugh at these. For no one knows Valter as I do.

I know.

There was a cruel side of your life left untold, for even the mere thought brings back the pain you've had to endure for so long, with no one by your side.

A father who only exists as a shadowy outline in your memories. A mother who never loved you as her child, only rejected as some petty nuisance in her life. A mentor who never looked upon you as anything more than a burden in his work. A childhood of rejection, never once experiencing an act of kindness. A single soul in a hopeless struggle against the world.

Yes. It appeared to be, you were alone in the world.

Perhaps the entrance to the academy was a brighter side in your life.

Perhaps not.

I remember that very first time we met. Yes… you were such a little thing back then. You had your head lowered, your long hair covering a majority of your face as you refused to look up at anyone. Your eyes glowed with ambition, and energy. And yet at the same time… emptiness. You made no sound, no movements. It was as if you blended in to the surroundings, as if you were not there. All of the new recruits were cluttered in tight groups scattered across the courtyard, save you, who stood off to one side, alone.

It seemed, you scared them. You were different.

And they feared different.

And I knew… you were the one. You were to be my ryder.

They say ambition is a terrible thing, that it causes individuals to become so focused on what they desire, they are willing to sacrifice anyone and anything to achieve it.

The pairing of two ambitious beings with an insatiable hunger for success would then have been a highly lucrative thing to do. Regardless of that, we were to be together as wyvern and ryder, and even the goddess could not prevent such a thing.

The way your face shone when we were partnered, I remember well, for it is perhaps one of the few times anyone can recall a smile upon Valter's face.

Despite our newfound friendship, you continued to exist as an outsider. You sit there, lance in hand, and coldly stare out into the horizon, your mind clouded, as everyone else gathered around the campfire, excitedly chattering away.

Something you could not share with anyone else?

There was the void in your soul.

A void that created the monster others whisper of on the battlefield.

It is in battle, you fully reveal your nature. Your unnatural lust for spilled blood frightens even the most toughened veterans in the regiment.

It was a sight to behold indeed- Valter and his wyvern Slivegio. For who else could single-handedly wipe out an entire flank of an army in a single battle? Who else could strike fear in the hearts of the enemies with the simple act of lifting a spear?

Our notoriety spread throughout the empire. You climbed up the ranks in the army, and soon became known as one of Grado's finest generals.

Valter.

The Moonstone.

Alas, you continued to be misunderstood. The other generals saw not a fellow general, but an unpredictable enemy who held no allies, but sought to destroy anyone around him.

No… there was one.

Duessel.

He was different, for he understood. He saw what others failed to see.

He saw an actual person in you.

Even after the incident, he continued to believe in you. Even now, though reluctant and hesitant, I see he still considers you as a friend.

Perhaps he feels guilt in causing you to become what you are today. After all, it was his lance that caused it.

The cursed lance that warped your fragile human mind into the monstrous bloodthirsty demon they say you are.

The moment your hand closed over its sparkling shaft, it was as if a wave had crashed overhead. Your mind became clouded with poison, your very person becoming what others had always seen in you.

You changed.

Everyone said such things. And you were stripped of your rank as Grado's General because of it.

Your own men feared you, and the demon you harbored in your dark soul.

They follow you, not out of loyalty, or awe, but in terror.

For the longest time, I feared I had lost my dear friend. Try as I may, I could not find the Valter I knew- the small child who clung to my back, shrieking in laughter as we maneuvered across the wide open skies in flips and turns; the young recruit who would sit next to the open campfire, dreaming of success as the very best general in all of the empire; the respected Grado General who led his men into battle, never giving in even when all hope seemed lost.

Where was _that_ Valter?

As it turned out, I had no need to fear such things.

For you are resilient. Stubborn in your own way.

You are inhuman, and therefore, your mind is not as fragile as the mind of humans.

You are not so easily swayed.

The cursed lance only amplified that empty part of your soul. It could not consume you completely.

Valter is very much still there. One only has to look more closely…

It was the annual celebration of the founding of the Grado Empire. You were there, with your small tattered army, on the outskirts keeping an eye out for any trouble.

The small child held in her hands a treat her father had bought for her.

She did not see you standing before her, and she ran into you, spilling her frozen creamy delicacy all over you.

The men behind you gasped, as they nervously glanced at their commander, whispering of the onslaught that was sure to happen.

The little girl's eyes were wide in fear, as she struggled to pick herself up from where she had fallen.

In one quick swipe, you plucked her up and set her upright on her feet.

"_I- I'm sorry… mister…" _she stammered.

You looked down at her coldly, and reached into your pack, pulling out a silver coin.

_Here, _you pressed the coin into her small hands. _Go buy yourself an extra scoop. And try not to run into anyone this time._

The men behind you gawked, as the little girl bowed awkwardly, and scampered off.

Well well, Valter, I tisked. It appears you have a soft spot after all.

_Shut it, Slivegio, _you growled, as you climbed back onto my back. _Let's go._

Whatever you say, Valter. I grinned. _Whatever you say._

You turned to the others, and snapped, _"Spill one word of this to anyone, and I'll see to it your head is mounted on the end of your spear before the end of the day!"_

Valter, the Moonstone, is still here.

--

_**Ice Kestrel: **_I have to admit, the first time I played FE8, I did not like Valter (he killed Glen…) But later on, I decided he was pretty cool. Just misunderstood.

**Next time…** it's Heath and Hyperion. :D


End file.
